


Resistance

by WildBurr



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Earth is a Death World, Gen, microbes, oxygen, radiation, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3480113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBurr/pseuds/WildBurr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter may not be strong, or fast, or genius smart. But he grew up on one of the harshest planets in the galaxy, and has the endurance to prove it.</p><p>Or. Planet Earth is practically a death sentence for almost any galactic race and human biology is badass.</p><p>Chapter 1 - Extreme Omnivore<br/>Chapter 2 - Regeneration<br/>Chapter 3 - A matter of Taste<br/>Chapter 4 - Sunbathing<br/>Chapter 5 - Pitch and Tone<br/>Chapter 6 - Paper Moon<br/>Chapter 7 - hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iron Stomach

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered, in stories where the aliens are super strong or heal fast, what If we humans actually had the skills that terrified/shocked the rest of the universe?

The major issue with so many races trading and travelling was, unsurprisingly, trying to work out what food was safe for which race to eat. These days, unless you were on your homeworld or a major colony, every kitchen came equipped with a food analyzer to prevent accidental poisoning.

The Milano was no different. Considering the sheer differences in physiology, it was a wonder that their food was as comparable as it was.  
Gamora and Rocket, due to their extensive modifications, could safely consume most standard foods from the major population centres, such as Xandar or the Kree homeworld and if they did happen to eat anything indigestible their cybernetics would work to purge it from their system. Not a pleasant activity for either of them, but it was certainly better than Drax's reaction.  
The last time the Destroyer ate something that didn't agree with him, he had laid on his bunk for a few days, his teammates straining their engines to get him to the nearest hospital. Since then there was a wordless agreement between the four remaining Guardians that they would run any new food through the analyzer before allowing Drax anywhere near it.

Groot, unsurprisingly, was the least amount of hassle to feed. All he needed was clean water, the occasional chance to root himself planetside and on special occasions a few fruits. (Peter once asked Rocket what was so special about fruits. The explanation about Tree reproductive habits made him slightly green for a few days.) But even his resilience only went so far and once or twice the team had to aggressively remove a parasitic plant that had taken root somewhere around their friend's body.

But Peter was, in the eyes of his team, unstoppable. He would be barely on the surface of a new planet before he was tossing strange fruits and cured meats in his mouth without a care. Even foods that the rest of the civilized portions of the Galaxy would have considered unpalatable at best and downright toxic at worst.

The most memorable example being the time they had to "borrow" a slavers escape pod when their infiltration was discovered, leading to an all out fire fight and the guidance system shot to hell. The pod was well stocked... For one person. Rationing would see them through two, maybe three weeks during the time it would take Groot and the Milano to pick them up.  
Peter had already shoved his share back into the storage compartment before wandering off, reassuring his team he would be back later with something to boost their supplies. While this was strictly true, it didn't have the reaction he had hoped for.

\- - - - - - - - - 

Rocket, Gamora and Drax stared wordlessly as their captain lifted one of the... One of the _morsels'_ he had gathered in the wilderness of the current uncharted world they had found themselves stuck on, visibly wincing at the loud cracks and crunches as he bit down.

"Quill. What. The Flark. Are you eating?" The shortest member of their team recoiled as Peter held out the broad leaf plate/basket he had constructed, giving a low chuckle.  
"Relax Ranger Rick, its all good, solid protein... Pretty much no fat too." Rocket scowled and wordlessly lifted his portion of the Ration Brick to his mouth, roughly biting off a chunk.

"But friend Quill... Surely... The threat of toxins did not give you pause" Drax avoided looking at the pile the Terran had gathered, tubbing a damp finger along the interior of his now empty ration container, gathering loose crumbs. Peter just gave a good natured chuckle.  
"Actually, I found out in the Ravagers that hardly anything considered toxic that didn't come from Earth affects me. They treated it as some sorta game... "what can't the kid eat?". Turns out, next to nothing, so long as its not raw meat." He tossed another into his mouth and crunched before grinning.  
"Hey, that one tasted of Pecans!"

Gamora turned her face aside, looking more green than usual, if that were possible. Meals were usually processed, bland slop or flavourless, texture less cubes and It was only after her recent emancipation that she was able to start enjoying food with flavour and colour. However, she would happily go back to the slop if the only choice were between that and Peter's... Meal.  
"That, is one of _the_ most _disgusting_ things I have ever had the misfortune to see. And I witnessed Ronan naked."  
The human grinned good naturedly as he lifted one of the longer items, trying to slip the end into his mouth.  
"Got a lively one here..."  
Gamora shuddered and turned away, almost holding her hands to her ears childishly at the loud slurping from the Terran.  
"Hehe. Slimy, yet satisfying..."

Peter didn't see what the big deal was. His team was far more sensitive when it came to their food. He could live off the land here, they couldn't. It made sense to avoid eating the rations they could eat when he had a whole smorgasbord of a planet in front of him.  
When it came to supplying the Milano for his new team, he made it a habit to buy whatever he could from their homeworlds if possible, or bulk buy Xandarian nutrient packs when reporting in to the Npva Corp. Turns out saving an entire planet came with some rather generous discounts.  
But when it came to feeding himself, he usually went with the cheapest he could find, recognisable or not.

His team deserves it after all. And what didn't kill him...

Peter lifted another bug from the squirming pile he had collected, rolling his eyes a little at his squeamish friends. After this, they had best never make fun of his cheese ( "Rotted bovine lactation? _Seriously_ Quill, ye got issues.. ) ever again.

"Hey, think I could breed these in the ship? They're kinda... More-ish..."

"No!"


	2. Regeneration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While humans may not be as robust as most other races, we certainly heal faster...
> 
> Or. Times when the Guardians were shocked Peter was up and around so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be several parts to this page involving different methods of human healing.
> 
> 1\. Scabbing/scarring.  
> 2\. Broken bones.

1\. Flesh Wounds

Sometimes, it felt to Gamora, the Galaxy threw everything it had at the rag-tag group of Guardians, as though considering their name a challenge.  
"Oh, you called yourselves _what_? Well here, have five different Kree revenge cults, a comet on collision course to a colony and a slave ring to bust up. Lets see what you've got."

The once Daughter didn't really know who they were fighting this time. Only that they drew weapons and struck first at Peter. At first, she thought their captain had been hit, a cold fury decending over her as knives flashed in the waning sun, splitting skin and severing tendons.

And there, suddenly, was Star-Lord, a blaster in each hand, every round meeting its mark; dead centre to the chest, or right in the forehead. He must have dodged the Kree's blade at the last second, and she made a small memo to herself to talk to Peter later about worrying them.

In the heat of battle, she never noticed the normally right handed Terran favor his left, or how he winced as he twisted his torso.

Once everyone was safely back on board the Milano, it was Drax who asked first.  
"Are you wearing armour friend Quill?"  
Their Terran teammate give a slow chuckle, wincing as he shrugged out of his blood red Ravager coat, his back turned to his team...  
"Not... Exactly..."  
Gamora slowly walked up behind him, reaching out as he starting slowly tugging his shirt over his head.  
"But that means... You took it in the chest... I saw..."

Her voice trailed off as a drop of red landed on the Milano floor, followed by a bloodied and torn shirt, her panic rising. Roughly, she grabbed their captain's shoulder and twisted him round.

The wound was ugly, a jagged gash running from over one pectoral to below the other, weeping an angry red. Voices clamoured as the Guardians started yelling for medikits, towels, even archaic needles and thread, silenced only by the Terran's yell.  
"Whoa, whoa, _easy_ guys.. Its just a flesh wound... Look, its already closing over. Didn't get me that deep."

The Assassin scoffed a little at his words, marching up to him with a cloth to apply pressure to his wound. The "Star-Lord" persona must be getting to his head if he thought that...

Her thought trailed off into nothing as she took a closer look at the wound. Incredibly, the slash on his chest _was_ closed, a thick red crust growing over the trail the Kree's blade left. Slowly, she ran a finger over the growth, recoiling as he gave a sensitive wince of pain, but her finger held only the faintest traces of blood.

"But... A wound like that should have taken days...." Peter interrupted as he slowly wandered to the medical stash, lifting a simple bandage out.  
"Not for you. Or Rocket."  
The raccoon in question grumbled out "Implants" under his breath and left it at that, watching the humie wrap the cotton-like material around his torso.

"Oh. Well... I dunno. Every Terran heals like this... Gonna be left with one hell of a scar though."

Gamora's mind reeled at the implication. For practically any race, a wound like that would require a surgeons touch if they hoped to live. Then again, many races seemed to have thicker, more robust skin compared to Peter. She was knocked out of her thoughts by the human's sigh.

"Look, I get it. I'm much more fragile than you lot. Hell, even paper can cut through my skin."  
He turned round as the bandage was firmly secured, his trademark grin firmly in place, arms stretched out.  
"But, I can sure as hell heal faster... Scar tissue... Biology's greatest, but ugliest gift to man."

The Guardians shared a look as their captain sauntered off, humming "oh child" under his breath. Sometimes their Terran worried them, his poor senses, his inefficient method of storing energy for later... And then he would go off and pull a stunt like this.

Maybe Terrans weren't the joke everyone else in the Galaxy thought they were.

2\. Bones

For a team as active as them, a broken bone was especially annoying. Not only did it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch every step of the way, even the hardiest, healthiest warriors were out of commission for anything between half a year for minor breaks to over a whole year for larger, more complex ones.

Drax in particular knew this well. As a farmer, the break in his arm had been jarring, his wife having to make up the slack. But that was the trade off for having a skeleton that could withstand _almost_ anything.

So when Peter had to be treated for a nasty fracture in his lower leg his team was ready to show their condolences (and brace themselves for months of complaining and demands).  
They didn't expect him to shrug and say he'd be back on his feet, five, six weeks tops.

The doctors certainly didn't expect him to hobble in after three for a re-cast. There should be no way he should have been able to put any weight on it for months.

"Yeah, kinda weird. My bones cant hold up to the same stress as yours, but they heal faster. In fact, one of the larger animals on earth might even die I they get a broken leg."

(True by the way, horses practically pump blood back up their leg with every step)

By week five, he was walking around the Milano cautiously. Week six, practically bouncing on one foot in order to prove to Drax he didn't need any more coddling.

Week seven he was glaring at a mixture of doctors and scientists as they poured over x-ray after x-ray. Once they were satisfied that, yes, somehow his bone had healed over in such a short space of time, he leapt off the examination table once the cast had been removed, scratching roughly at the exposed skin.

(Really sorry people, I just wasn't feeling it this time.

I might come back to this chapter later, but for now I think I'll move onto another topic.

Speaking of, if anyone has suggestions, feel free to add them in the comments! Even considering "fake" examples of human badassness, such as deamons, bending and semblance, so don't be afraid to suggest anything purely for "rule of cool"! )


	3. Bitter reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the bland, cardboard tasting rations just don't cut it. A quick trip to the market however shows just how useful a good tongue can be...

Nutrient bricks. Mineral gruels. Xandarian rations.

All safe, healthy foods, full of everything needed for survival.

It was really no wonder that markets sprang up at refuelling spots, merchants loudly advertising their culture's fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices. Civilization it seemed had come full circle, the spice trade making a resurgence as they explored the "New Worlds" beyond their borders.

Peter for one loved wandering through the almost archaic bazaars of the galaxy, head reeling from the scents in the air, examining local knick knacks and making connections. These days he didn't travel alone however, and on this particular pit stop he was accompanied by Rocket, muttering half to himself and half at the universe in general.

"Groot could easily make all this crap, but oh no, nothin's too good fer the almighty Star-Dork..."  
Peter rolled his eyes as he lifted a bright blue fruit from a stall, giving it a quick sniff before examining another.  
"Groot's already being pretty generous with the free oxygen thing. 'sides, I don't want him to think we're having him tag along for free food. Doesn't feel... Respectful."  
The raccoon rolled his eyes with a grumble, but crawled up Peter's jacket to rest on his shoulder.  
"Ah guess. Or yer jus' squeamish yer eatin' his ovaries."  
He gave a quiet chitter of laughter as Peter scoffed in mock disgust, handing over a few creds after stocking up his satchel. 

The pair picked out whatever supplies they remembered their teammates liked. Thick, savoury tubers for Drax, a staple of farm life, soft, delicate edible flower petals, sweet and light, the thing a parent would treat their child with so long ago. But it was when they rounded a corner to find an isolated stall selling tightly jarred powders and dried plants did Peter's face light up.

"No way... That's a _Terran_ stall! Rocket, c'mon, you've got room in your pack, right?"  
Rocket winced as he watched their officially unofficial captain bound u to the stall, scratching an ear as he hesitantly approached.  
"Uh... Quill? Are those _biohazard_ signs and an isolation tent?"

\- - - - - - - - 

Rocket stared dumbly at the electronic catalogue in his paws, mumbling as he read over the "spices" for sale.  
"Capsaicin, found in several fruits, notably the Chili family... Burning sensation... Kills..."  
He stared up at the haggling humie, jaw slack.  
"An' ye use this fer flavour?!"  
He smirked as he added another small jar to his satchel, glancing down at Rocket.  
"Keep reading. Most Terran seasonings are toxic to insects and pests. Some can even kill a guy in high enough quantities." Turning back to the merchant, he inquired about a particular herb, Rocket raising an eyebrow as the four armed alien crossed all of them in two Xs, protesting.

"I run an honourable stall here friend. I do not deal with... Poisons."  
Quickly, the pair was shoved out (with a call from within to come again, naturally), with Quill yelling back at him.  
"Seriously? You had fucking ghost chilies in there man! Hows this worse?

The bounty hunter folded his arms as Quill angrily tugged at his longcoat, marching back into the Bazaar, eventually having to scamper on all fours to keep up.  
"Pete... What are ye doin'?"

Peter gave a slow smirk as he looked down the less reputable row of stalls, selling livestock, knives, firearms...  
Poisons.  
Rocket groaned and brought his palm to his forehead as he sauntered down the stalls, humming "want you back" to himself.

One shady deal beneath an underpass later, Peter was the proud owner of a small, finger-sized vial of clear liquid, the seller begging to be careful and not drop it for all their sakes. He refused to open up about the mystery liquid, only patting his breast pocket with an air of satisfaction.  
"A taste sensation Rocket. You'll see when we get back from this job Gamora tracked down for us..."

 

\- - - - - - - -

The worst part of being a little bad and a little good? Sometimes you have to deal with scum as though you were equal.

Case in point, their current client. A well known trader in slaves and flesh from sentients, he had only been unable to pin down due to working through middlemen like the Guardians. Peter glanced suspiciously at the stew a "servant" girl ladled onto the amphibious life form's dish, trying not to retch as he wondered who, if anyone, it was. The details were... Lacklustre to say the least. Escort one of his men from here to there and back again. Completely innocent.

Peter would happily eat his own cassette player if his suspicions were incorrect. For now though, he had to cover his grimace with a smile, their host bringing out five mugs full of a sweet smelling fruity drink.  
"A toast my new, firm friends... To our... New business arrangement..."

Peter scooped up his mug quickly, the effort of keeping a smile on his face making his cheeks ache. Taking a sip, he watched Gamora reach for her own mug and-

~Warning. Danger. Do not swallow.~

The bitter tang flowed over his mouth, instinctively clenching to prevent swallowing, his hand grabbing Gamora's thigh tightly. Lowering his mug, he forced the smile back onto his face, looking the ex-assassin in the eye.

The glance into his eyes told her all she needed to know. The drinks were dangerous... Somehow, Peter had been able to tell from taste alone. Smiling at their host, she carefully accessed some of the cybernetics in her hand, mimicking a short and...

"Oh, I do apologise... I had a new component installed, I am afraid i have not yet broken it in..."  
Peter smirked to himself as Gamora's "malfunction" scattered the mugs, emptying them of their contents and even soaking their employer's lap at the same time. Taking advantage of the confusion, he spat the drink back into the mug and tossed it over his shoulder, placing the now empty mug back on the table, making a mental note to wash his mouth out back on the Milano.

\- - - - - - - - -

Rocket stood on the counter, arms folded as Peter gargled and spat into the sink for about the tenth time time, toes tapping on the countertop.  
"Gams just ran a check on th' drinks. Some freaky, untraceable poison. No cure."  
He whacked the Terran on the back of the head as he began to chuckle, grumbling.

"Come clean Quill. Gams told us you warned her. How th' hells did ye manage that?"  
Peter laughed hard as he turned round, watching his assembled crew.  
"Bitter. For such a fruity smell, the drink was bitter."  
He pulled the vial he had purchased earlier our of his pocket, starting to rummage through their supplies. He held up a hand as Drax opened his mouth, pre-empting the question.

"It used to be more useful before refrigeration and persevering techniques. Anything toxic, like unfamiliar plants or unripe fruits would come up as unpleasant, sharp taste."

He pulled a single drop from the vial, adding it to something thick in a bowl. Personally, he would have preferred it stronger, but he'd have to ease his wimp of a crew into it,chuckling as rocket nearly recoiled as he opened it.

"Damn it Quill, are ye a masochist or somethin'?"

He ignored the question, continuing his work and explanation.  
"Terrans will use _anything_ for flavouring. You saw capsicum..."  
He chuckled under his breath, spooning the dough onto a tray and setting it to bake.  
"Well, mint is in the totally opposite direction. You'll see..."

 

Needless to say, Quill was ordered to keep his "seasonings" to his own meals under pain of Drax once he convinced them that no, their mouths aren't freezing from within. And earned the new ship title of "Taste Tester"...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to ~divisionten for the flavour idea, and to ~sinikettu for reminding me that most spices evolved as toxins!
> 
> As always, please leave any ideas you'd like to see, either real or "superpowers"!


	4. A Touch of Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the original ideas I had for this series! Thanks go to ~SammyLerma for giving me the kick up the backside needed to get round to it!
> 
> \------
> 
> There was a reason none of the "normal", non superpowerful aliens came to Earth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my boyfriend. Love you SugarPup.
> 
> And Rocket/Peter is cute and you know it, so hush.

When their ship entered the system where the kid they were supposed to grab was staying, more than one Ravager had to be subdued with a whistle and a threat. Radiation warnings were blaring out of sensors and even Yondu's second had voiced disbelief that they'd find anything more complex than a few protein chains.

When they drifted closer to the blue and green marble hanging in the void however, the silence on board was deafening. One or two gave strangled cries of shock, and a little fear, when they slid around to to night side of the planet, glittering with artificial lights.

So when they pulled the kid on board, decon team ready for whatever alien, unknowable thing Yondu had decided would be worth a few creds, they gave nervous laughter at the so-very-Xandarian-like child they had pulled on board...

\- - - - - - - - -

Peter suppressed a groan as he rubbed his eyes, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.  
"It was simply meant to be a nice gesture. Not everything is abou-"  
"Fuck. You. Quill. C'mere and say you didn't get this crap from some... _pet_ shop. C'mon. Right to my face."

Peter bit back the urge to sigh, instead leaning on one of the many ropes, ledges and climbing frames he had installed, looking down at his... Lover? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Gods knew what the actual bounty hunter himself thought of their arrangement. Whatever it was seemed to consist of 3 parts misunderstanding, 2 parts blind rage and 5 parts make up sex. Which, Peter would admit, was awesome, but not particularly healthy for either of them. While usually they'd be at the apology part of their domestic spats, this one was turning out to be a 100 on the "you're fucked and not in the good way" scale.

"Yer a freak Quill. What, ye get off on animals like me? Fuckin' backwards planet like Terra... Prob'ly keep farms fer-"

Thankfully Gamora's voice, weary from hearing the pair's spats grow in volume, interrupted the squabbling pair, announcing they just got a request, for a considerably generous sum. Peter gave an internal thank you to whatever deity was listening, stepping past Rocket who was trying to decide what he liked more, money or arguing.

The call came from a comparatively small mining colony, or more specifically, an orbital power plant that collected the deadly rays of the sun, focused them and shot down the almost pure energy down to the colony, all while shrouding them from the natural sun's rays. An ambitious, experimental set up.

Naturally, something had gone wrong, as the administrator on board started to explain. The particulars went over Peter's head (so high not even Drax could catch it) but it all boiled down to a component cracking inside the main focusing chamber. Without the sensitive peice of equipment, more of the radiation was allowed to pass through to the colony. For now, they could take shelter, but if it wasn't fixed soon...

Peter wandered over to the side as the rest of his team argued with the administrator. Something about having nothing to shut down the beam for cases like this. To be honest, he didn't really care. All it took was a quick glance over a few readouts and he grinned, starting to shrug off his trench coat...

\------------

It was Groot who noticed something was amiss, hearing fabric hiring the floor. Twisting his head round, he saw a mostly naked Peter, only in his underwear, holding the replacement part under his arm as he slowly tugged the heavy radiation door shut behind him, locking it from within.  
"I am Groot!" _Peter! What are you doing?!_

Heads snapped round, none faster Tha Rocket, who looked at the pile of clothes on the floor, the missing replacement and would have paled if his fur didn't get in the way. Mumbling a soft "no" to himself, he scrambled towards the door, his protests growing louder and more urgent as he neared the entrance to the collector. Dimly, he was aware of thick vines encircling his limbs to hold him back, staring through the small porthole as Peter strained at the internal airlock door.

One of the workers slammed his fist down onto a glass panel, thick, black, opaque sheets descending, blocking off the view inside.

\--------

Peter, meanwhile, grunted as he shoved the heavy door open, shielding his eyes slightly at the glare, musing that he should have brought sunglasses. Humming to himself, he walked into the chamber, light striking his body from every angle. It wasn't as warm as he thought it would be, but in the back of his mind, he remembered those terrifying, bone chilling moments drifting in space. Perhaps nothing would ever be warm enough again.

Removing the old part and replacing it was simple and he found himself tapping his foot, shaking his hip to some hidden beat. He even felt like whistling, something he hadn't done since he accidentally triggered Yondu's arrow that one time. And the second. The third was totally on purpose though. Tucking the broken item under his arm, he laughed while sliding over the smooth deck in his bare feet, ending in a small pose at the open door.

Really, he had forgotten how good this felt.

\----------

He was wailing. He was wailing like some starved, helpless brat, and he didn't care.

Groot was bad enough. But Peter...

The last argument replayed itself in his head, over and over, making him cringe, his gut twisting into painful knots. Every time he had done something nice; getting those baked treats he liked, that snug harness that allowed him to carry twice the death as normal, that damned climbing gear... All he had done was throw it back in his face, yell at him, then use him for gratification.

He was surprised the damned terran hadn't kicked his ass out yet.

He squirmed against Groot's bark, once a comfort, now just a reminder of what he had just lost, when the thud came.

At once, all heads turned towards the sealed bulkhead, glances being shared between Guardians and natives alike.

_You heard that, right?_

Another thud. A muted curse. Several rough slams.

Without thinking, Rocket yanked his personal favourite, holding it level at the administrator's head while internally he trembled, barely daring to hope. He was lucky enough to get one miracle. But two..?

"Open it."  
"But there's no way he could have surv-"  
The dull whine of the weapon charging up made him pause, taking a step back.  
"I said. Open. It."

Swallowing, he reached over, depressing a few keys in sequence, clenching his jaw as the radiation shield began to retreat, half expecting the deadly light to flood the room.

Instead a grinning, yet oddly coloured Terran stood at the porthole, fist pounding on the glass.  
"I like sunbathing as much as the next guy... But could someone open this damned door?"

\-----------

The Guardians starred as Peter walked out, tossing the broken down part at his side, scooping up his bundle of clothes in one fluid movement. His skin, usually a pale pink, like most Xandarians, was now a dull copper or bronze tone, small beads of sweat on his forehead and chest.

Rocket would die before admiring that, despite the life threatening danger, Peter was HOT like this.

A quick check up confirmed what he had been feeling. Despite a few additional, unknown chemicals in his skin, he was perfectly healthy. The near constant grin on his face did more to reassure the Guardians than any test though. By know they recognised that grin as the "I am a badass Terran" grin, Gamora wordlessly gesturing for him to explain.

"I don't know the science... But I know UV is... Pretty much essential for us. Been having to take supplements since Yondu grabbed me."  
He tugged his shirt over his head, tactfully ignoring Rocket's small whine of disappointment.  
"Was pretty surprised when I was told my sun was basically pouring death over a world with an atmosphere too thin to protect it. I think they were expecting some... Thanos-like race, not soft, squishy Terrans..."

He jumped off the examination table with a smirk, full of energy he hadn't felt in years. Sunbathing was definitely a thing unique to Earth... Maybe he should come back here from time to time, keep up the maintenance.

"But friend Quill... Your skin..."  
If anything, Peter grinned wider, rubbing a hand down his bronzed skin.  
"Called a tan... Happens when you get a high dose of UV... Skin produced extra... Mel.... Ma... Mad? I don't know the name, but it keeps us safe."  
He chuckled a little, faint recollections of trips to a beach playing in his mind.  
"Folk would just lay in the sun, soaking up rays trying to get this nice gold colour..."

He realised no one was interrupting him this time, looking over at the dumbfounded Guardians.

"Your people expose themselves to this dangerous radiation... For vanity?"  
Peter opened his mouth to reply, but fell silent, trying to justify it internally before trying to convince them, following them as they made your way back to the Milano. Halfway there, he felt short pin pricks as Rocket climbed up him, muttering an apology and not too subtlety mentioning that if he kept the bronze look he wouldn't mind...

 

( Okay, artistic license time again. I know that exposure to that much uv would have left him like old leather, or peeling with the WORST case of sunburn ever. But you're also reading about a group of aliens who used a magic rock together. If you must validate it, Peter's non human half amplifies his human resistances.

All ideas welcome! Actually, I think I'll try a fictional ability this time... Crossover ideas welcome! )


	5. Take a Melody...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lifting, falling, hard, soft, soothing with compassion or hard with rage. No one can match a humans singing voice.
> 
> Or. Humans are basically Space Sirens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to ~Crossover Addict, ~SammyLerma. ~Bekah, ~Kiomori and, as always, my boyfriend.
> 
> This was an unsurprisingly popular request.

The battle was going poorly. Whatever freak had risen from gods knew what pit this time was certainly forcing them to live up to their title of Guardians, his four arms swinging a pair of heavy, but sharp, axes. Drax was already down, a weakened Groot doing what he could to stem the blood flow. Rocket almost certainly had a broken leg, maybe two, and was forced to shuffle backwards with one arm, his aim wavering. Even Gamora, arguably the most dangerous of the five, was strained to the point of exhaustion, her implants barely keeping her intact.

Peter had gotten off easily. Everyone knew he was only as good as his blasters, which turned out to be ineffectual against the beast, or his silver tongue, and he seriously doubted that that the same distraction tactic would work twice. In essence, he was being ignored. Something not even worth fighting.  
Peter _hated_ being ignored. Especially when the battle was being recorded by the local news crew from a safe(r) distance.

He grimaced as Gamora was sent flying with a blow to the gut, wordlessly dumping his weapons at his side. He still had one trick up his sleeve... Something Yondu had made him swear never to do on board the ship unless asked.

And as sure as however number of hells there are to _never_ do it to a pilot on duty.

Thumbing the implant on his neck, he deactivated his mask and translator, starting to run at the guy from behind. Using a piece of rumble as a step, he launched himself onto their attacker's back, arms wrapped around his throat.

\--------

Gamora cursed as Peter latched onto the warriors back, even as she took a step back, trying to give her struggling cybernetics a chance to stop the worst of the blood flow, knuckles almost pale with the strength of her grip on the blades. At least that had not failed her yet.

Peter was, without a doubt, the weakest of them. Yes, he could heal fast, but only if he survived the blow. Yes, poisons did little to him, but that wouldn't help in a stand up fight.

So when he pulled a stunt like this, it was just foolish and would only cause more trouble for the team as they attempted to strike past him, often missing the chance to land a decisive blow.

She swore, if they made it out of this alive, she'd-

A tone came from the direction of the soul be conqueror, oddly familiar, but her translator having difficulty to pinpoint. The pitch kept rising and falling, shifting as fluidly as water passing over rocks. It was only when words were added to the noise that she realised it was Peter's voice...

 _Take a melody..._  
Simple as can be...  
Give it some words and,  
Sweet harmony...

She blinked, roughly, as a wave of fatigue washed over her, almost dropping one of her blades. The warrior wasn't faring any better, one axe already on the ground, bent at one knee as it reached up, trying to tug the Terran off his back.

 _Let your voices,_  
All day long now,  
Love grow strong now,  
Sing a melody of love,  
Ohh love...

This time Gamora really did lose her blade, slumping back against a nearby wall, slowly sliding down. The soft tones were swirling around her, even as her translator struggled to unify them into one easily understood pitch. Her eyes grew heavy as Peter began humming again, the brute he was riding falling face first against the ground, weakly struggling to lift himself up. As if sensing his prey's will weakening, Peter shifted his grip, voice softer as he murmured and sang by his ear.

If she hadn't the video playback from the news crew to back it up, she highly doubted she would have believed it. The beast snoring, Peter climbing off and giving her a weak smile as he past by, a worried look in his eyes.

He knelt down, carefully removing Rockets weapon as he grimaced and complained. He kept his voice in check, but the effort of doing so allows the pain to be shown in his face. Sharing a look with Gamora, he quickly stroked along the scar that his Rocket's translator, leaning in closer.

 _Love is the power,_  
Love is the glory,  
Love is the beauty  
And the joy of spring...

It was softer this time. Gentle. Personal. She could _feel_ Peter's emotions as if they were her own, going from ears to her heart without her brain having a say. She almost felt like a trespasser as the Terran basically opened his heart to his lover, whose pained face was soothing, eyes growing heavy. Eventually, he was lifted up, sleeping and damaged legs supported, all the while Peter kept singing.

\----------

Unsurprisingly, the footage of Quill latching onto the invader's back and bringing him down was broadcast across known civilized space. Only a few knew what he had done.

Most of which were sharing a hospital room as they recovered.

He almost seemed embarrassed while explaining, as though he would offend them while demonstrating. Turns out human communication consisted of, at best, 50% language and the rest pure emotion, mostly carried by sound, but occasionally body gestures too.

It was no wonder he played his music over and over again, even if the tones were dulled by comparison. The only other beings he could communicate with properly out here were monotonous to his ears. Without his tapes giving him access to the full vocal range of earth, he might have snapped long ago.

He kept his hand on Rockets, occasionally rubbing his thumb over the back of his palm as he explained, following up with a promise to keep his translator on at all times from now on.  
"Now why'd ye have t' make a dumb promise like that?"

Groot piped up in agreement, his "toes" soaking in a mineral rich foot bath, explaining through rocket that he loved hearing his Terran music since it reminded him of his elders voices back home. Hearing the real thing, even from such a distance, was a bittersweet treat. Drax nodded, unsure how to explain his thoughts, but he too enjoyed the emotions the unfiltered voice had stirred within him. Gamora merely smiled, making herself more comfortable on her chair.

"Speak for us. Please?"

Quill rubbed his neck, opening his mouth to reply before Rocket interrupted.  
"No translator Star-Dork..."

With a small chuckle, he reached back up to his throat, deactivating the voice modulator, keeping his translator intact. He spoke about everything, days with his mother, the warmth of her love filling them, to the moment of her death, icy barbs of pain and fear and loss biting into them, to that time he nearly put the pilot to sleep because he was trying to thank him for smuggling him in a few treats.

The Guardians sat and listened.

It was no wonder no one had attempted to open diplomatic relations with Terrans. No one would be able to keep up.

 

> **(Why would Peter have a translator, designed to allow him to understand other races in his THROAT instead of his ear?**
> 
> **The only reason I can think of, is if the various races use words to explain their feelings, with dozens of words for a range of emotions. But humans use pitch and tone, unheard of in the galaxy.**
> 
> **This could be why no one takes him seriously. They hear him using the most basic of words, unaware of the full range of communication cut off from them.**
> 
> **As always, please leave any ideas you'd like me to try in the comments! And I'd really appreciate a fictional one this time, got quite the back log of real ones thanks to all of you! )**


	6. Fly Me To The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First fictional, based on a prompt from livejournal http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=913934#t913934
> 
> In which Terrans are keeping a few well kept secrets from an unknown galactic community and Rocket I terrified of Peter's scent.
> 
> Or. Peter has a little hairy problem...

_He was told at school that it wasn't uncommon for it to skip a generation or two. That even if you didn't have the outward symptoms, the condition could be hidden in the blood, passed down from parent to child until one had the luck to develop a full blown case._

_He had lived in an area with a scarce number of folk like himself. Most of them moved to the big cities where it was easier to network and manage the symptoms together. Only books, outdated videos and a mothers love to help prepare him for the inevitable._

_They said that strong emotions could trigger it the first time. The constant taunts and bullying from his peers, a sick, dying mother, slipping away in front of you and then to top it all off, being lifted by some multicoloured force into some space craft..._

_What they had lifted up was a boy._

_What they found in the cargo hold was a beast._

 

\------------

Not for the first time, Rocket seriously considered asking Gamora to disconnect his nasal interfaces with his brain. 

It was early on board the shared ship, his still mostly sleeping brain craving caffeine when he lost control the first time. Peter practically leapt into the room, annoyingly energetic for that ungodly hour, and his brain just flipped. The bestial instincts he kept clamped down with an iron will broke through his hazy brain and made him hiss as an ungodly scent filled his nostrils, fur bristling. Before he realised it, he was scampering over the high rise cupboards (with no real idea how he got so high) trying to Sta as far from Quill as possible.

Every synapse in his brain was screaming _danger!_ at him, baring his teeth defensively at the human, currently holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. His heart beat slowed as Quill sort of... Shrunk down, appearing smaller, moving his head to the side and exposing his throat a little.

Neither moved for a few moments until Rocket slowly climbed down, keeping his gaze away from him until he grabbed a mug, muttering about how he should wash that stink off him, damn humie B.O. killing his nostrils.

Neither of them tried to talk about it whenever it happened. Rocket confused. Peter guilty. No matter how much the rest of the team prodded at them for details.

But Peter knew it would have to be addressed sooner or later. It was getting harder to deal with the... Symptoms without someone catching on.

\-----------

_The first man was down almost as soon as they heard the growl, something faster and larger that the kid they picked up slamming into him, tackled him to the ground and ran off back into the shadows before anyone could do more than draw their weapons. The Xandarian's throat was an ugly gash, thick dark blue blood pooling on deck as he struggled to hold his lifeblood inside, until with a final, gurgling exhalation his eyes became glassy and lifeless..._

\--------------

Drax too noticed something amiss with their half-human captain, though as he had not met another being from Terra, he could not say so for certain.

He admired it when Quill asked him questions, as only a fool would keep himself ignorant about his fellows upon who he relied on in battle. Some nights passed in bittersweet (an apt word Peter had used to describe memories) recollections about their family. One night stood out however.

After he encountered some technical difficulties regarding his firearms crushed beneath rubble, Quill came to him, hoping to learn a few melee weapon skills should he encounter similar troubles in the future, something that Drax had thought of as prudent.

Within his belongings was a small, slender blade that brought emotions of pride and grief in equal measure. His daughter's first ceremonial training blade, delicate, ritualistic carvings gracing each side. Wordlessly, he held the blade handle to his captain, who gripped it with confidence as befitting a warrior.

He was... Unsure as to what happened next, the blade clattering to the floor as Peter moved his hand behind his back. While he was no expert, he would have attributed his facial expression as an attempt to mask pain, leaving quickly. Carefully retrieving and polishing the old blade, he glanced at his face within the almost reflective silver, stowing it back with his other precious mementos carefully.

\-----------

_The next victim was in the complete opposite direction that they had spotted the creature running too. The man always was a coward, but a damn fine hacker. As usual, he was standing at the very back of the group of Ravagers, weapon weak in his grip..._

_They only noticed he was missing when his gun clattered onto the floor, turning around to see a train of green blood leading back into the shadows, a sickening crunch/crack filling the room..._

\---------

Gamora saw small idiosyncrasies with their self appointed leader as well. His need to eat first for example. Or his insistence that he slept on the only proper bed on board (although If she was being fair, it was his ship, and he did put his hand into his own pocket to pay for a re-fit for proper rooms, even If Nova Prime hardly gave them enough time between "requests" to dry dock).

She couldn't fault him when he stopped playing as leader and started acting as one however. She had learnt just how protective their captain could be when one of his own were threatened.

Case in point, when they had recently adopted their moniker of "Guardians of the Galaxy" and docked at a small trading colony...

Well. Thanatos ruined a lot of lives. And she, one of his deadly daughters, was an easy target for their rage, hatred and grief.  
She didn't blame them. Part of her will always feel as though no pain or hardship would ever be enough to atone for the acts she had committed.

So she wordlessly accepted their jeers, taunts, insults and threats. In fact, sometimes she'd wonder if she'd defend herself if it came to it.

The first time they went out as a team, she didn't have to. Peter was obviously disturbed as the comments directed at the once-assassin, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't until someone crept up behind her that he took action.

She heard her assailant behind her. Debated over whether to fight back or just allow it to end...  
What she did not hear was Peter moving. Not until the would be attacker gasped in pain, the grinding of bone picked up by her augmented hearing, the knife that would have buried itself into her back embedding into the earth.

The noise coming from his throat was... Wild. Something primal that triggered old fight-or-flight instincts long thought discarded, causing her heart to race.

She never heard what he whispered into the man's ear. But she saw the look on his face as he was released, not even pausing to collect his knife before running into the crowd.

Peter, or the... Man she thought of as a buffoon before, flared his nostrils once before suddenly lapsing into that cheeky, childish persona once more, a sheepish smile on his face.  
"Someone really ought to teach these guys manners..."

Maybe he was made of leader material after all.

\---------

_Yondo barked orders at his men as they backed up towards the door, the captain letting loose a shrill whistle, arrow hovering between them and the cargo hold as they tossed light spheres into the depths..._

_It was right by the door._

_Teeth flashed and sunk in deep into a Kree's arm, tugging him away from group. It recoiled, letting its prey drop to the deck as Yondo gave another sharp whistle, clutching paws over its ears even before the arrow sliced along its forearm._

_Gesturing for his men to stand back, he gave another sharp pitch, the beast whining and recoiling, slinking back..._

\-----------

Groot was last to view their captain acting oddly. If he was perfectly honest with himself, many things the flesh based sentients he had met over his exile had left him amused, confused, frustrated and a little fearful.

Rocket had managed to work all of that into the span of their ten second initial meeting.

But Peter? He was full of contradictions. Playful, but dangerous. Friendly but guarded. Personable. But so very lonely.

So, he devoted his time while recuperating his lost mass and strength to observing him. He had found the fleshy beings unintentional discrimination useful before. Who'd pay attention to an old, motionless tree?

And so he watched, as patient as only a plant could be. He prefered his meat more rare than most. If anything, he would have preferred it passing through a warm room and no more. He had a variety of brushes for long, thick hair hidden in a small vanity case -only seen because he had offered Rocket one- along with several hair care products that did not suit his moss (hair he reminded himself). He had assumed they were left behind by his past relations with others, but this was proven wrong as he snuck a new bottle inside, replacing an empty one.

Then there was the time when he helped an injured Drax on board, his hands covered with the larger man's blood. Once the wounds were seen to and they were resting in their nightly dormancy, he had observed Peter sniffing, licking at the slightly dried blood on his fingers, before scowling and bathing his hands.

Yes, Peter was perhaps the oddest and secretive of his new friends. Perhaps time would explain why. And he had plenty of time.

\-----------

_Yondu approached the lanky beast, giving another whistle as it made to remove its hands protecting its ears. Ribs were poking out of its skin, even showing through the thick mass of fur. Something twitched begin it, a thick tail that seemed to act as balance. A snout, full of those teeth that had claimed two of his crew, possibly fatally injured a third._

_The eyes however, were not of just another beast._

_He locked eyes with it, feeling more than hearing the rumble from its throat as it rose up. An intimidation tactic. He stepped forward again, yelling and whistling as the beast lunged... This time it persisted, yelping with obvious pain, but still reaching out..._

_It scampered back quickly before the centurian had a chance to lower his foot. Cradled in its arms was a small block of plastic, archaic headphones dangling... Thick claws slowly scraped down the side..._

_And it let out one of the most heartbreaking sounds that the amassed Ravagers have ever heard. A low mourning cross between howl and sob, wrapping around the item as its body quivered..._

\-----------

Peter grunted to himself as he looked over the sensor readouts, fingers flying as he programmed the nearest life bearing word into the auto pilot, clenching his fists as muscles twitched.

Such an idiot... Shouldn't have left it this long...

He knew that it would have been noticed as soon as he altered their destination, trying to bite back a growl as Gamora leaned into the cockpit, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"Nova Prime-"  
"I know..."  
"She wants us to-"  
"I know."  
"If we lose this job, it'll cost us-"

Peter couldn't hold it back any longer, giving a savage growl as he slams his fist against a panel, twisting round to stare her in the eye.  
"I _know_!"

His body tensed, blood pounding as he almost visibly shook from the effort of holding himself back. The rest of the Guardians watched from the door, their eyes flicking from Peter staring down one of the most deadliest women in the Galaxy to the metal panel bent inward. With an exasperated groan, the Terran shoved past them, grunting out a request to tell them when they landed.

Upon touching down, Peter shrugged his leather jacket off, avoiding looking down at the furriest member of the crew.  
"Fer fucks sake Quill... What the hell's gotten int' ye?"

The Terran paused as he shrugged out of his shirt before sighing.  
"Look... I'll be back in five... Six hours tops."  
He looks down, stripping down to his underwear.  
"Just... Don't follow me."

With that, he leapt out of the cargo hold, landing with one arm outstretched, grasping the ground, before vaulting forward and into the foliage, out of sight.

\-----------

Rocket was never one to follow the orders of another. No matter what anyone said, he only went along with ideas if he thought of it first.

So when star-dork of all people told him not to do something, it was a matter of principle that he had to do exactly that.

The trail was easy to follow at first, his footprints showing up in the mud and moss, but there was something... Off about them. The toes were too long... The sole shrinking... Wordlessly, he gripped one of his smaller firearms, slinking through the undergrowth... But when his hackles rose up and his traitorous instincts kicked at his skull from the inside, demanding that he run, now, hard, fast, don't look back-

His head barely turned round at the sound of a cracking twig, before flashing teeth and something _big_ filled his vision, swiftly crashing into him and...

Darkness.

\----------

_The creature squirmed and rolled beneath his skin as the fur started to recede, bones cracking and twisting. The ravagers at the doorway grimaced and turned away, even as Yondu watched, sneering..._

_Where once was a beast lay a naked Terran, clutching a cassette player to his chest, lost to the oblivion of sleep..._

\-----------

Rocket grimaced as he squirmed, his senses booting up one by one.

A crackling and heat against his side; a lit fire.  
A faint echo and scent of damp moss; cave.  
Blood and fresh meat, a thick musk; everything screaming predator.

Slowly he opened his eyes, barely twisting his head, instincts and augments working together in a rarely encountered common goal.

Flee. Survive.

Fingers brush over the handle of his weapon, a quick fumble judging it operational. Gripping tightly, he sat up an-

Hot breath warmed the back of his neck, the raccoon swallowing hard, inhaling slowly as he slid his finger over over the trigger...

"I _told_ you to stay on board Ranger Rick..."

"Pete...?"

The warmth pulled back, something big and furred padding past him, a smooth gait between all fours and two legged, grabbing a haunch of some nameless animal, pulling it over.

"Light or dark?"  
His nose wrinkled, scowling as he stamped down the allure of fresh meat.  
"If ye think I'm gonna eat..."

The creature slumped down in front of Rocket, eyes meeting as... As _Peter_ tore apart the flesh, bringing a small chunk to his snout, watching him impassively.

"Fuck... Me... Quill!?! What the... But you..."

The... Terran grunted, slumping down by Rocket's side, holding the haunch in his hands, separating cuts of meat. Slowly, he began to explain about Lycanthropy, how it was transmitted, how they usually formed groups, how loneliness was a werecreature's worst enemy... How his first chance was among strangers, underaged, a mess of blood and fear...

Rocket slipped another small chunk into his mouth without thinking as Peter went into detail, flexing his hand, still pink from Drax's silver blade as he did so. By the time the carcass was consumed, the pair fell into a deep silence, broken only by crackling of the fire.

"... You're going to have to tell the others."

"... Yeah. I know."

"... So. How d'ye keep from sniffin'?"  
Peter smirked as the Raccoon slowly made himself comfortable against his side, pulling over another lump.  
"I don't. You've got to accept both halves if you wanna stay stable..."

\----------

_The Kree crew member died later that night, a combination of blood loss, shock and a virulent virus surging through his system. The crew quickly ejected the body towards a nearby star while confining the Terran boy to one of the specimen cages, Yondu keeping a careful watch over him._

_He hadn't woke since then, their medic giving a cautious explanation about how his body wasn't ready to handle whatever... Transformation that his abduction had caused._

_He rolled a small figurine he found in the boy's bag, watching the lad sleep beneath a blanket someone had thought to provide._

_The client never mentioned anything about him being dangerous. Three men lost... Out of pocket avoiding the Asgardian sensors..._

_But the boy was dangerous... And dangerous could be useful..._

_He grinned as the boy stirred, standing up over him._

_"Time t'wake up boy... Welcome t' yet new life..."_

\----------

To say that the Guardians were surprised when Rocket rode back to the Milano atop a great furred beast soul be understatement. But that was nothing compared to hearing a deeper, growling version of Peter's voice coming from it, rolling his eyes.

"Can we not make a big deal about this? Please? So yeah, gonna be a little hairier from time to time, but..."

"...no, I haven't replaced ye, ye dumb twig.. Its like... He's a rental, jus' 'till ye get back on yer feet..."

"Hey, this _rental_ got you dinner, a show, log fire..."

The trio of Guardians, Groot's pot carried by Drax wordlessly turned and left the cargo hold, Gamora faintly muttering.

"Why am I not surprised that even as a beast, he still used his pelvic sorcery..."

The two merely nodded as they left the bickering pair, punctuating each others arguments and comments with faint nips to mark the skin, Rocket more at ease with his animalistic habits. And Peter not quite so alone any more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because even with fur, fangs and claws, Peter is too much of a dork to be anything but adorable.
> 
> I think fluffyPeter is my new headcannon...
> 
> As always, dedicated to my boyfriend. Wish I was there with you instead of stuck at work babe.


	7. ~Short Break~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, short hiatus

Hi there everyone!

Just want to say thank you to everyone for reading and commenting on this series! I never thought it would be this popular!

Thanks to you, I have a full notepad page of ideas, and... Well, they'll keep me busy for a while yet.

This isn't to say stop sending ideas! Far from it, if you come up with any more, anything that pops into your head, I'll be happy to accept!

For now however, I promised my boyfriend that I would write a little something involving the two of us, and since he's always been supportive, how could I refuse?

So for now, I wont be adding new chapters until I've created something I know he'll love.

I'm sorry if anyone was looking forward to their ideas written out, but rest assured, I will return!

So thank you all once again, and I hope you enjoy whatever flows out of my keyboard in the future!


End file.
